


potter's secret rendezvous in hogsmeade.

by niamhies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hinny, Post canon, first I love you's, the daily prophet is still the worst newspaper in existence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamhies/pseuds/niamhies
Summary: Harry had never quite expected the wizarding world to care so much about who he was or was not dating.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 26





	potter's secret rendezvous in hogsmeade.

When the barn owl flew into Harry’s kitchen on a chilly February morning with the morning edition of The Daily Prophet tied to its leg, he had expected the front page to be plastered with wanted Death Eaters, reminding their readers of their haunted faces and when they were last seen. Harry had possibly expected an increase in the reward prize for tipping the Ministry off on their whereabouts, even. Finally able to relax for the first time this week, he took his time in undoing the string attached to it, a piece of toast clenched between his teeth as he did so. Harry nearly threw up last night’s dinner when he saw that the front page was not, in fact, dedicated to capturing the country’s most dangerous witches and wizards, but instead had a large photo of the back of his head craned down in what people would only guess – and rightly so – was a sure sign he was performing barely PG rated acts on the person his body was hiding in the photograph. Above the picture was a large, booming titled which read _‘Potter’s Secret Rendezvous in Hogsmeade.’_

Staring wide eyed in horror at the newspaper, Harry had scarcely realised he somehow had managed to tip the owl, and it gave his finger a mildly affectionate nip before flying back out of the window once again.

Harry observed the photo desperately, with each passing second becoming very, very thankful that Kingsley had asked him to stay after training for a meeting with high-ranking members of the Ministry – despite venomously despising him in the moment – so that when he had Apparated into Hogsmeade, where a whistling Ginny had been waiting for him on the bench outside the Hogs Head, it had been close to pitch black outside. Harry dreaded to think the damage that would’ve been caused had he been let off on time and met Ginny under the grey, yet much lighter, skies for all to witness their particularly blissful encounter. 

**Potter’s Secret Rendezvous in Hogsmeade  
By Betty Braithwaite.**

_Harry Potter, aged 18, will be known to many under the alias of phrases such as ‘The Boy Who Lived’, ‘The Chosen One’, ‘The Man Who Conquered the Dark Lord’ and many others, just to name a few. After his spectacular, chivalrous defeat of Tom Riddle last summer, our readers of The Daily Prophet have been no stranger to his name._

_But with great fame comes a price…_

_Speculations on the mysterious life of Harry Potter have been varied throughout the years, though until now, there has never been a bigger interest in his private life – especially amongst younger, adoring fans. It was only last week when Witch Weekly posted their quickest sold-out copy to date, with a whole fifteen pages dedicated to a timeline of Potter’s life, with the help of anonymous sources who knew the young man well during his years at Hogwarts. I think all of our readers should not be surprised when their annual list of ‘Most Charming Smile’s’ comes out with him on top._

_But one part of the article left readers dissatisfied – which was the lack of information on Potter’s love life. With only half a page dedicated to that aspect of his life, which he tries his upmost hardest to keep shrouded in secrecy, it’s sure to say that readers were not happy._

_But fear not, because I, Betty Braithwaite, writer of The Daily Prophet, have been picking up the many, many, scattered puzzle pieces of The Chosen One’s life and over the past week have connected the dots that so many before me have been unable to do._

_Last night whilst me and The Daily Prophet’s most known photographer – Bozo Stewart – were discussing my latest article at the Three Broomsticks in the wizarding village, Hogsmeade, over a few rounds of Butterbeers, I managed to catch a glimpse of Potter through the window. Curious, I asked Bozo to accompany me on a walk through the village as we tried to find out the reason as to why Mr Potter was treading through the cold weather of winter so late at night – more significantly, in a village that is awfully close to the British wizarding school, Hogwarts, where many of his close friends are currently finishing their final year at._

_And much to our pleasant surprise, we found him under a dim streetlamp, his arms wrapped snugly around someone!_

_Now, as all you readers can surely see, we were not able to catch a look at who The Chosen One was captured in a moment of passionate lip-locking, but that does not mean that we have laid this case to rest. I personally, will be reporting updates on our investigation of who this mysterious person who has captured the heart of Britain’s most beloved hero is, and will not stop until I am able to give my readers the answer they deserve._

_As I’m sure you can all tell by the photograph above, they seemed to be locked in an embrace that can only be mastered with experience, which left myself wondering just how long this had been going on for... Years, perhaps, in the making? A secretive affair? A forbidden romance during times of war? That, readers, is what I will stretch far and wide to find out for you._

_When visiting the newly reformed Ministry of Magic in the early hours of today, hoping to get a comment from Mr Potter himself before this edition was printed and released, it’s to my most misfortune that I wasn’t able to speak to the man himself. After being told that he was having a ‘well-deserved day off’, I was promptly threatened with security if I kept ‘dawdling around.’_

_Finally, to Harry Potter himself, if you find yourself reading this article like the vast population of the wizarding community will too, please do not hesitate to contact my office, shall you wish to have an interview regarding the whole matter. Though it was only last month I was told explicably by Mr Potter personally that he only keeps up with the news through magazines such as The Quibbler, I sincerely hope that those close to him will pass the message along. (Cont. reading on page 3 for more.)_

After letting out an almighty groan, the first word that came out of Harry’s mouth that morning was a faint ‘fuck.’

***  
Ginny had managed to make it to the third floor on her way to breakfast Saturday morning before finding out why every student she had passed on the way had been whispering furtively with another, glancing not so discreetly at her as they walked by.

When an urgent voice coming from a deserted room she had just passed hissed her name, Ginny clutched her wand instinctively. A mild tension filled her as she peered wearily at the open door, much too old to be dealing with whatever this was anymore. But she was pleasantly surprised when a familiar mess of black hair stuck itself out of the room, gesturing her in quickly with the wave of his hand.

Ginny complied immediately, unable to keep a smile off her face. Despite having seen her boyfriend only the night before, her eyes lit up at the sight of him, as though they had spent another ten months apart again.

“Hello,” greeted Ginny, and she stepped on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. 

The strange expression that had previously been on Harry’s face, which Ginny could only describe as a mixture of anxiety and guilt, slid off in a heartbeat, and he returned the kiss eagerly, wrapping his arms around her just like he had done the night before. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Ginny began, reluctant to pull away from him, “but, it’s not you to just turn up to Hogwarts for a quick snog on your day off.”

“No I suppose I don’t – I guess I save that for when we meet up every week at Hogsmeade,” Harry replied, and Ginny snickered in response. At the mention of the village however, Harry’s smile turned into a slight grimace. “Speaking of Hogsmeade…”

“Oh no, what’s happened now?” said Ginny, sensing the clear tension in Harry’s stature. A small part of her was connecting the excited whispers that followed her in the morning with the hesitance of Harry’s words – putting two and two together. 

“Have you by any chance, had a look at The Daily Prophet this morning?” asked Harry, clearing his throat.

A groan let loose from Ginny’s lips and she pressed her forehead against Harry’s chest, her suspicions confirmed. “I’ve heard whispers and seen people staring – well, more than usual,” she lifted her head up, looking up at Harry. “Out with it then, what’s that bloody newspaper done this time?”

Harry released his bottom lip from under his teeth, a habit he had developed recently when nerves overcame him, and he swallowed thickly, trying not to look too guilty. “They’ve got a picture of me from last night in Hogsmeade. It doesn’t show you, but it definitely shows someone…”

His hands fell from her waist and took out the folded newspaper which was concealed underneath his cloak. “Here, it came to me about an hour ago.” 

Ginny took the paper, her eyes narrowed crossly, and Harry hoped to Merlin it wasn’t directed at him. 

He really had tried to keep the public’s prying eyes and ears out of their relationship. Only their close family and friends had been told, whom were all sworn to absolute secrecy – not that it was necessary, they wouldn’t have blabbed anyway. And Harry had really enjoyed having this small secret to himself and his loved ones. Of course, he wasn’t ashamed of Ginny (how could he be), but it was one of the only things that the bloody Daily Prophet hadn’t been able to find masses of information about that part of his life and plaster it across their front page for weeks on end – and it had been blissful. He should’ve known, really, that this would not have lasted forever, and that some blabber mouth was bound to have found out at some point, but Harry had secretly wished he’d have been able to do it of his and Ginny’s own accord – when they felt comfortable.

And now that silly reporter, Betty Braithwaite, who was the most persistent, irritating of them all – except, of course, for Rita Skeeter herself – and Harry was positive that they’d be outed within a week.

He eyed Ginny apprehensively as she continued to reader the front page wordlessly, her face unreadable too, and Harry was growing jittery more and more as the seconds went on. She flicked the paper to the next page and let out a bark-like, amused laugh.

“What?” said Harry immediately, trying to crane his neck to see what was so funny.

Ginny looked at him, her eyes glittering with charm and she flipped the paper so he could see page 3. 

“Have you seen this? Poor old Betty’s really got her job cut out for her – look! See who she’s gone and put!” Ginny chortled, a hand over her mouth.

Harry took the newspaper, having not read more than the front page before he had hurried off to Hogwarts. His eyes scanned the page, which was comprised of a list of witches names – all of which Harry knew – and the occasional wizard who were supposedly ‘top contender’s’ of being the accomplice to his ‘Secret Rendezvous’. 

Ginny was in a dismal fifth place, a sure sign that Harry should’ve stopped reading there, but Harry was almost expecting someone ridiculously unlikely like Hermione to be the highest on the ranking – but he was quite sure he needed a new pair of glasses when next to the number 1 read _‘Ron Weasley – a bearded romance?’_

“Are they having a laugh?!” demanded Harry, staring at the small, moving picture of his best friend.

_Ron Weasley – a bearded romance?_

_We all know by now the close bond Harry Potter shares with his best friend, Ronald Weasley. With the two of them becoming friends at the young age of eleven, and now, both at 18, the two of them are expected to be Auror’s within the year - doing it all famously without a single NEWT to their names!. Despite claims of a budding romance between Harry’s two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, it’s quite acceptable to believe that everything is not what it seems._

_We heard from a trustworthy source by the name of Romilda Vane, who is a friend of the golden trio and has helped us exponentially with this accurate listing, who claims that she’s seen them more often than not appearing out of broom cupboards and the boy’s bathrooms, looking rather flushed!_

_When I pressed her for more-_

“Rather flushed!” cried Harry, staring at the writing in outrage.

Ginny was keeling over, holding her stomach, whilst she let out fits of giggles. “I’ve got to borrow this, Harry. Honestly, it’s the funniest thing I’ve read in months!” she told him, taking the paper and reading out a small paragraph under Luna Lovegood’s name which claimed that Harry’s fondness of The Quibbler wasn’t about learning to catch Nargles, but something entirely more inappropriate…

“Merlin, they’ve even chucked Demelza on here! She’ll be fuming… And Neville!”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Harry, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched her try to compose herself, feeling a little happier with himself that she wasn’t furious with him. “When you’ve done laughing at my expense.”

“All right, okay, I’m sorry,” said Ginny after a moment, her giggles fading, but her grin as wide as ever. “I can’t believe people were having a fit over this, though… Surely, they know by now that all those writer’s talk out of their arse.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. This was supposed to be his day off, and it wasn’t even ten and he’d been running around Hogwarts for the best part of the morning. “People will believe anything, Gin. You should know that, especially after that tattoo business,” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Ginny snorted, “Romilda still believes that, you know. Speaking of her…” her eyes narrowed, “I think I’ll have a chat with her later. What was it they called her? A ‘trustworthy source’! Yeah, right…” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Harry smiled down at her, she really was great company – hell, she’d lifted his spirits in the ten minutes he had been with her by just smiling. 

“You’re not angry about this all, are you?” he asked her, needing the verbal confirmation, just to be sure.

Ginny peered up at him, her brown eyes surprised. “Of course, I don’t! Well, I’m a bit peeved off that I’m so far down the list, you know, but I guess that’ll give people a right good plot twist when it all comes out.” 

Ginny slid her arms up his chest and hung them around Harry’s neck, grinning coyly. She leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth, deepening it when Harry let out a moan of surprise.

Harry’s hands trailed into her hair, loving the feeling of it against his palms. He was so happy. Happier than he had been in a long time – it was almost as if they’d been transported back into the sunlit days of his sixth year, which had been the most joyous moments of his life. Harry could scarcely believe that after all Ginny had been through, that through it all, her feelings for him had never wavered. She had waited for him, and they’d both been patient with one another as they healed from the traumas of war, and Harry was eternally grateful to have someone as amazing as her by his side, not backing out when he told her his darkest fears, and trusting him in turn, to share her worries and trauma with him. And he loved her so much…

Ah.

Fuck.

He loved her.

Loves… her.

Harry had never been one for timing, had he?

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, the adrenaline pumping in his blood blocking out fears of rejection and heart shattering nerves. All he could think about was the feeling of her lips against his, her body against her, her hands in his hair, his hands in her hair… she was just so lovely.

Ginny froze under his embrace, and that’s when Harry was thrown back to reality. He pulled away from her, panic stabbing his heart.

“You…love… me?” Ginny breathed, her breath ragged from not just their kiss, and lips swollen.

Clearing his throat, Harry adverted his eyes to the suddenly very interesting floor, shifting in place. There’s no way he could deny he ever let those words slip – it would make him look like even more of a fool – so all he could so was shrug pathetically. “You… er- You don’t have to say it back… if you don’t want,” he mumbled so quietly that he wasn’t sure she had heard at first. He had never told anyone he had loved them, and the words sounded so foreign on his lips. Harry wasn’t even sure what love was – because for God’s sake he hadn’t experienced it until he was eleven. But then he thought of Ginny, and absolutely everything about her, well, if that wasn’t love then he wasn’t sure what is.

Harry wondered how long they were going to stand there in stunned silence whilst the ice-cold feeling of regret seeped through his body. He really should go, before it got painfully awkward-

Ginny had all but launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet her lips in a brief, but firm kiss. Harry’s eyes were wide open, heart racing and mind thundering against its confinements. 

When she pulled away, staring up at him with a breath-taking expression that was brimming with pure adoring admiration, the words that tumbled off her pink lips made Harry sure to believe that he was certainly dreaming.

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered, her face glowing radiantly. She was his sun, keeping him alive with her sheer, blinding, beauty. 

Harry felt his lips part, and he stared at her in transfixed awe. “You…?”

“Yes,” nodded Ginny, smiling so wide like this was the best moment of her life. “I love you. More than anything.”

Harry truly had no words. There was nothing, completely nothing in the long and extensive English vocabulary that could describe what he was feeling in that moment. All he could hear was the thumping of his heart all the way up in his ears, along with the swirling whispers of ‘I love you, Harry’ and ‘More than anything.’

More than anything… More than anything! She loved him more than anything!

And he was only mildly mortified when Ginny brought her thumb up to his cheeks and wiped away the tears that he hadn’t even known were falling. 

“Oh, God. Sorry…” Harry muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve hastily.

Ginny was chewing her bottom lip slightly, a frown etched upon her mouth. “You don’t need to apologise for crying,” she whispered, kissing him chastely. 

When she pulled away once again, Harry could tell she wanted to ask him something – but either didn’t know how to word it or was thought she might be overstepping.

“Harry.”

“Hm…” he hummed, still trying to regain control of his heart rate. If he wasn’t careful, he be sure to have a heart attack.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to give me an answer if you don’t want to, though. I’ll understand,” she asked quietly, her brows furrowed. Ginny caressed the stubble on his cheek gently, with Harry leaning into her touch. She looked uncertain, and Harry wasn’t sure whether or not he was prepared – Ginny rarely ever looked uncertain.

He felt so vulnerable. He had just told her he loved her, and she’d said it right back to him. He couldn’t believe… No one had ever…

“Sure,” he whispered, just as quiet.

Ginny inhaled a breath, still staring at him in a savouring manner as though it was the last time she ever would. “Did… Has anyone ever told you that? That… that they love you?”

Harry swallowed, gazing into the concerned eyes of his girlfriend, and shifted slightly on his feet. Not trusting his voice to answer, he shook his head. 

“Oh, Harry…” Ginny hugged him tightly, and Harry was sure she was only doing that so he couldn’t see the look of unnecessary pity on her face. 

Harry hated being pitied on – despised it even. Though, with the way Ginny was holding him right there and then, he supposed he could make an exception for when she did it. Because she was so warm…

“It’s all right, Gin,” he told her truthfully and rubbed her back soothingly. And it was. It wasn’t her fault the Dursley’s had been so neglectful, or that Sirius hadn’t said it either, or that he had taken his sweet time in getting together with her.

“But Harry that’s- that’s not right! I always thought – maybe Sirius or Hermione or even Ron-“

“Ginny,” said Harry firmly, holding her back so they were face to face. “Don’t start blaming yourself, all right? I’ve survived eighteen years without someone saying it to me, and I’m okay, aren’t I?”

“I know, I know,” said Ginny, smiling reluctantly, “but still, it’s not fair… I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.”

“Well…” Harry began, a cheeky grin creeping onto his face, “there’s always room for those words in the future, isn’t there?” 

Ginny looked at him, and a rueful smirk curled onto her mouth. Catching on, she kissed him deeply, and he basked in the feeling, both breaking away every so often to mutter deep, heartfelt confessions of love, and Harry wasn’t quite sure why he had come here in the first place, or why they were sharing such an intimate moment in an abandoned classroom, because the only thing that mattered to him right now was that he was snogging his lovely girlfriend, wishing clandestinely that the end of the term would hurry up so she could come home to him, and they could begin their future together.

***

“Oh! There they are!” cried Mrs Weasley happily, beaming through her watery smile. She pointed at a small group of people, a small distance from them, who had yet to spot them. “Ginny! Hermione Oh my goodness, Arthur, look at them…”

The two young women paused their casual conversation at the call of their names, eyes wandering over to the large huddle of redheads, a mop of black and turquoise hair in the midst.

Harry held his godson above his hip, surprised at how heavier he had become in the passing months, but nevertheless couldn’t be more excited to see the look of glee on Teddy’s face as he took in their magical surroundings. “There she is, Teddy. Can you see?” Harry said quietly, pointing at Ginny, who was determinedly making her way through the crowd. 

“Gin – ey!” shouted Teddy happily, clapping his hands together as he looked back at Harry, pleased to see the proud look in the man’s eyes.

“Brilliant, Ted.” 

Mrs Weasley was rushing towards them, her hands held out. “Harry, you better give me Teddy for the time being – I have no doubt my daughter will want a proper reunion,” she said, smirking a little whilst she took the one-year-old from him.

“Oh, er- thanks, Mrs Weasley…” Harry muttered, grinning sheepishly as George cackled from behind them.

“Don’t tease them, George. I think what they have is… wonderful,” she voiced, her eyes brimming with even more tears than Harry thought possible.

Harry flushed red, though admittedly did appreciate the comment, but he didn’t have much time to respond with his thanks before a loud, and very familiar voice shouted from the distance.

“Oh my God, MOVE!”

Suitcase abandoned, Ginny was running towards him with that hard, blazing look in her eyes and Harry knew what was about to happen. Not caring that they were in front of their family, nor surrounded by hundreds – possibly thousands – of oncoming lookers, Ginny fell into his arms and pressed her lips against his. 

Harry let himself drown pleasantly in the way her body pressed against his, blindly oblivious to the shutters of camera’s clicking and not so hushed whispers that echoed across the platform like distant winds from a raging storm. When they finally pulled apart, the pair of them weren’t quite sure just how long they had been held in one another’s arms for, not that they cared to think about it. Harry had barely been able to speak with her after the graduation ceremony at Hogwarts as she had been swept up in a large crowd of redheads before he had gotten four words in. They had time though, so he hadn’t minded – this was her day.

He contemplated her mildly, taking in every inch of her face to store in his long-term memory, and wondered how on earth he had gotten so lucky.

Ginny had opened her upturned mouth to say something to him, but it was silenced by a clearing of someone’s throat.

“You do realise that The Daily Prophet is right over there, don’t you?” said George from behind them, smirking at the pair of them, his eyes glistening like a distant memory.

Harry had easily forgotten that he and Ginny weren’t the only inhabitants of this planet, and blinked, eyes darting around the platform. Most, if not all, were looking.  
Betty Braithwaite’s face was alight, her quill scratching furiously against a pad of parchment – her expression was one so close to Skeeter’s, that Harry had almost forgotten that the other woman was no longer permitted to write for any wizarding newspaper of magazine for the rest of her life. Flashes of pictures were still being taken from the photographer, Bozo, who was looking extremely proud with himself as he checked them. 

“Er- what do we do now?” Harry muttered so only Ginny could hear, as he felt his cheeks burn.

“I… do not know… I was hoping you had an idea, actually,” responded Ginny, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “Harry, I didn’t mean to. Urgh, I was just so…”

“Caught up in the moment?” Harry finished for her, a ghost of a smile on his mouth. “I know the feeling.”

Harry could see Betty heading towards them, not doubt to interrogate them until they could talk no longer, and Harry formed a hasty getaway. “Just… nod and smile,” he told Ginny as he took a hold of her hand.

“What?”

“Nod and smile. And then make a run for the barrier.” 

And they did, tilting their heads at Betty and smiling at those who were talking animatedly about what had just happened amongst themselves now, still with theirs faces peering at Harry and Ginny. They managed to hide behind their friends as they ran through the barrier and into the Muggle world, laughing as they did so, their mouths aching. 

“That’s gonna be all over the newspaper’s in the morning, you know?” said Hermione once she and Ron caught up with them.

Harry shrugged. “Eh, that’s fine by me. Then maybe they’ll stop with those conspiracy theories about my non-existent relationship with my girlfriend’s brother,” he told them, and Ron smirked, having found the whole situation quite funny, apart from the odd, vague insult about Hermione.

“You didn’t have to snog in front of everyone, though. Not everyone wants to see that,” said Ron, narrowing his eyes at them.

“Really? I personally thought they all quite enjoyed the show,” Ginny retorted, her hands entwined with Harry’s loosely at their sides and she kissed his cheek lightly.

Harry snorted, neither of them paying attention to Ron’s half-hearted tuts and scoffing. “Kreacher’s gone all out, by the way,” he told the two girls, his memory reminding him of the stressful scenes at The Burrow earlier as Kreacher and Mrs Weasley – who was still often cold towards the house elf for his involvement in Sirius’ death – bickered on for the most part of the day over what they were going to make, and who was better at making it.

“Ooh, fantastic! He always does the best treacle tart.” replied Ginny enthusiastically, whilst Hermione made a small noise of disapproval.

“You better not have been over-working him, Harry,” said Hermione sternly.

“Lighten up, Hermione – ‘course I haven’t – when have I ever?” he replied, knowing that she knew full well Kreacher would not take no for an answer unless Harry had forced him to do so, and he hated doing that at the best of times.

Hermione didn’t seem to have a response to this, or not one that Harry bothered to listen to, and she leaned into Ron’s side as the whole family headed for the nearest Apparation point. Mrs Weasley was gripping her damp handkerchief in her small hands with Teddy hoisted up in her arms, with Mr Weasley rubbing circles on the small of her back, watery eyed as well. George was walking a few steps ahead of them, a vacant space beside him where Fred should be and Bill, Fleur and Charlie had stayed at The Burrow, making sure that Kreacher didn’t end up sabotaging Mrs Weasley’s bakes.

“You’re okay with this, aren’t you?” asked Harry abruptly, his gaze straight ahead.

Ginny peered up at him, confused. “Of course. Are you?”

Alarmed, Harry stared down at her. “Yeah, of course. It’s you I’m worried about – the British media have no respect for anyone, you know that, right? If you thought it was bad before…”

“Always so positive, aren’t you, Potter?” said Ginny sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Look, I've just managed a whole year sharing a dorm with Hermione – and she’s the nosiest person ever – so if Betty Braithwaite thinks she’s getting an interview out of me, then she’s got another thing coming.” 

“All right, all right! I don’t underestimate you for a second. Just making sure that this is what you want…”

“I want you.”

There was a small pause.

“You have me.” 

Reporters were walking as quickly as they could towards them, not foolish enough to make a scene in front of Muggles, but perhaps almost desperate enough to, gesturing wildly whenever they thought they had caught the attention of Harry, Hermione or one of the Weasley's. Harry paid them no mind, vaguely aware that this was just a build up for what he was about to face on Monday at the Ministry, and hand in hand, he and Ginny Disapparated, landing no shorter than a second later just outside The Burrow, content and happy smiles on their faces that never shifted or fell once throughout the lovely night ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, hope you enjoyed this little fic i wrote :) i really liked writing it and wanted to sort of parallel harry and ginny's first kiss in the common room with this one, hope i did it well enough !
> 
> also, i'd just like to put it out there that i don't condone jkr's views on trans women and the trans community in general, and if you do support her views, then please don't read my works again, thanks.


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